


Persuasion

by aesthetic70s



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthetic70s/pseuds/aesthetic70s
Summary: in which sander is amber’s alt brother and strict parenting means she’s not allowed to date until he does, so aaron comes up with a plan to get sander in a relationship with the help of jens, moyo and robbe. little do they know sander already has his eye on someone…OR:wtfock but it's 10 things i hate about you
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 31
Kudos: 131





	1. The New Kid

**Author's Note:**

> to the person who suggested this in the tag, thank u i couldn't sleep until i wrote it xx

Pop music blares from the car radio of a pink convertible, filled with teenaged girls and driven by their blonde leader. The next lane over, a leather-cad bleach-blond screeches his black pick-up to a halt at the red light, the sound of Bowie’s Rebel Rebel obnoxiously playing over the Top 40 _chef-d’œuvre_ , before tearing away without so much as a glance, the music fading into the city’s busy tune…

“Are you sure you sure you two are related?”

The driver huffs in hot annoyance as she speeds away, following the dark car pulling into the school parking lot.

*

Aaron waits outside the door of the main office, noticeably fidgeting with his jacket sleeve until a door opens and he is gestured into the room.

“So, firstly I’d just like to personally welcome to your new school! I know first days can be slightly overwhelming…but…you’re—you’ll—”

She’s distracted. Aaron quietly watches her rummage through the piles of paper littered all over her desk, pulling open drawers.

“—do great. I'm sure you won't find it much different from your previous school. And we have—Ah!” She pulls out a sheet from one of the heaps and reaches across. Aaron stares at it vacantly without reading it. “Your schedule. I’ve arranged for a student to show you around, basically a guide… And that’s it. He should be outside now. Enjoy your day!”

He wordlessly heaves himself out of the chair, half-strapping his backpack on, and swings open the door, only to bump into someone on the other side. Looking up from the black Doc Martens, he finds a boy taller than him, dressed in all black with a leather jacket and bleached hair.

“New?” He chuckles to himself as he pushes past him and into the office.

“Ignore him,” chimes another boy standing up from one of the chairs outside the doorway, “that’s just Sander. I’m Jens.” He reaches out to shake his hand, smiling kindly but as if somewhat amused. “Uh, I think I’m meant to be showing you around?”Aaron nods with a small smile, relieved that they didn’t send some AV nerd. Without knowing better, he would have assumed Jens was popular for sure: his tan skin and general conventional attractiveness, cool-but-carefree style and relaxed attitude.

“Well, let’s get going then.” He grabs Aaron’s shoulder and leads them into the crowded hallway, buzzing with students shouting across lockers, sharing summer stories. He notices one group in varsity jackets carrying a football and immediately rolls his eyes internally. Jens notices his expression, laughing.

“Yeah, those are…the ones to avoid. I guess they’re ‘popular’, so if that’s all you’re about then go for it. But they’re assholes. Especially him,” he points at the tall one in the middle with brown hair.

“Who’s he?”

“Senne. Senior. Possibly the most popular dude in school. All the girls are obsessed with him. Hell, the guys, too. And of course, he’s surrounded by his minions, Lucas being the most intolerable.” He gestures towards the boy beside Senne, who’s half-hidden behind his long greasy hair. “Anyway…”

They wander out of the school doors and into the harsh sunlight burning onto the students loitering on the green. Jens walks in a long loop around the courtyard, pointing out the different cliques and noteworthy characters. Nothing Aaron wasn’t already familiar with: the stoners, the coffee-lovers, the punks, the science geeks, the Mathletes, future MBAs, etc.

Jens eventually slows as he approaches two boys lounging on a picnic table. “…And last but not least, us.” Aaron smiles as he greets the boys with an awkward fist bump. “This is Robbe,” Jens indicates, nodding to the short boy wearing a red beanie, his light brown hair just barely visible, with headphones around his neck, who smiles at him shyly, “and Moyo.” This one had even curlier hair, almost an afro, and was beaming widely.

Aaron eyes their loose-fitting clothes and a skateboard the shorter boy is clutching, finally notices the one Jens had been carrying around the campus. “Are you like…skaters or something?” He finds himself surprised that someone as conventionally good-looking as Jens isn't more popular.

The three boys burst into laughter as Jens calms them down. “No, but we do skate.”

“And we have a vlog channel on Youtube,” adds Moyo. “We’re the Broerrrs.”

“Woah, that’s cool. What do you guys—”

Aaron chokes on his words as a girl walks past. _He burns, he pines, he perishes._ Not a girl, no. An angel. Dressed in a pastel skirt and a butterfly shirt, her long blonde hair swaying in the warm breeze. She floats past him, followed by a gang of girls. Curiously, all of which, he notes, have similar long blonde hair.

The boys giggle mockingly, watching as Aaron openly ogles the girl. Moyo comes up behind him, gripping his shoulders. “Please don’t tell me you’ve got it for Amber…”

“Amber?” Aaron is still unable to look away from the goddess before him, not noticing the boys behind him look at each other with a mixture of disbelief and laughter. “What group is she in?”

"Blonde Ambition."

“I wouldn’t go there, man,” Robbe sighs, already knowing it’s too late. Aaron’s gaze is fixed on Amber, tunnel vision—he doesn’t even register how Amber herself is fixated on Senne, how is now leaning against the doors into the school.

“What does everyone see in him that I don’t?” Jens sighs exasperatedly. Robbe looks over at him with a smile, “Are you worried about him stealing your girl?”

“Your girl?” Aaron asks, finally turning around to face the boys. “Not…Amber?”

Jens grimaces. “No, definitely not. Jana is over there.” Aaron scans a group of girls to the left of Amber, seeing the one with warm-brown hair and a fringe Jens was referring to. Jens then starts to name the rest of the group “There’s also Yasmina—the one with the hijab—Luka—she’s got the big hair—and Zoë—the blonde bob.”

But Aaron isn’t listening. No, how could he when the love of his life has just stepped into his path? This is the kind of love that makes one think of destiny and the stars! This is also a high school crush.

"Is she always so..."

"Vapid?"

"How can you talk about her like that! Look at her smile... She's totally pure."

Moyo pokes at Aaron’s side, cackling. “Jesus, close your mouth, at least. It’s not even been an hour and you’re already this desperate? That’s kind of impressive, actually. At this rate you'll be on your way to being one of the Beat Boys.”

Jens shakes his head, trying to offer a reassuring hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Sorry, man, but Robbe’s right—forget it. Even if she wasn’t chasing after Senne already, her parents are insanely traditional. Like, her Dad won’t let her date anyone. I’m surprised she’s even allowed to be in Blonde Ambition.”

“Who says she’s allowed?” laughs Moyo.

Jens responds to Aaron’s frowning face. “They’re those girls she’s with. The other half of Senne’s group, essentially.”

Moyo pats Aaron’s back. “Unlucky, man.” But Aaron is not ready to give up just yet, shaking his head with a bewildered expression.

“Not allowed to date? Are parents really that strict these days? That’s fucking bullshit…”

Jens sighs, as the three boys all look over to the girls, who are now chatting away to Senne’s crowd. “Hey, I heard she was looking for a French tutor—”

Aaron’s face lights up, “I’ll do it!” he practically yells.

“Do you even know French?” Moyo scoffs.

No. But he will learn.

Just then, outside of the school doors walks Sander Driesen. A green bag slung over his shoulder, a black portfolio tucked under his arm. The sound of his heavy shoes on the concrete cause heads to turn, including Aaron, as he recognises him as the boy from the office. Looking at him now in the sunlight, he sees he’s surprisingly tan, contrasting the rest of his goth aesthetic.

Jens follows his gaze and leans into Aaron. “You wouldn’t believe it but…he’s Amber’s brother. A year older.”

Aaron’s mouth is agape as he grapples with this revelation. The difference between the siblings is astounding. Almost unbelievably so. In terms of looks, he can almost see the resemblance in the features, but personality-wise it doesn’t add up.

They all watch him in silence before the boys return to ridicule Aaron, howling with laughter. But they are so caught up with joking about Amber that none of them notice as Sander walks past, eyeing a certain shy skater boy in a truly sinful way…


	2. Voulez-vous couchez avec moi?

“I thought we decided you weren’t going to apply!”

“No, _you_ decided.” Sander watches his Father pace in front of him, waving in his hands a fancily-stamped letter addressed to a Mr S Driesen that has just been opened. “I…didn’t think I would even get in…” he mumbles, averting his eyes from his harsh stare and focusing instead on the intricate pattern of the Turkish rug.

“It doesn’t matter—we’ve been over this—it’s delusional! I mean, art school? Really? You might as well file for unemployment now and get it over with!”

Sander rolls his eyes, not bothering to refute this tired argument. He leans back into the velvet sofa, exasperatedly running a hand through his platinum hair and gripping it at the nape of his neck in frustration. His Father gestures his hands haughtily at him, waiting for an explanation, but only receives a half-hearted shrug.

“You’re not actually considering accepting this, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Sander cries, suddenly sitting up with his hands out in front of him. “It’s my dream school! It’s what I—” He pleads with his whole body, leaning forward and clasping his hands together. “It’s what I’ve always wanted… Not everything has to be driven by a capitalist idea of success…” The stern gaze from his Father only emboldens him to continue, adding lowly, “…Mom would’ve let me…”

“Enough! She’s not here! I am! And you should know better than to use her against me like this. Frankly, I don’t think you quite understand yet, but one day you will thank me for not letting you ruin your life for some passing passion. Every man in this family so far has gone to a _proper_ university, to study a _real_ subject, and I will not allow you to change that! If you…”

He rambles on while Sander stares past him, feeling like he could practically recite this whole monologue word-for-word by now. How many times has he explained that he would do anything, make a pact with the Devil, even, if it meant he would be able to do art? (He’s clearly not remembering how Faustian pacts never end well, but after all his only use for English classes were as free time to sketch without being caught.)

He really didn’t think he would even hear back from them. As much as art fulfils him, he knew that it would be almost impossible to bring his Father into the twenty-first century, so applied mostly on a whim, secretly, just in case something ever did come out of it. It was the school that mattered the most to him, really— _this_ school, the one his Mother went to, where had always pictured himself, and where he would be far away from this insufferable town. It represents everything that he resents about his life, and right then he resolves to get out no matter the consequences. He shakes his head to himself, thinking with self-pity about how no one around here could ever understand him. A voice in his head whispers _Well, maybe someone would…_

“…I only want what’s best for you. I’m thinking of your future, and you should be too. I mean, to throw away all that potential, and then to not even get a decent career out of it? That’s irrational behaviour. Isn’t it on the other side of the country, too?”

“Thus the basis of its appeal! Dad please, I’m 18 now. Technically you can’t stop me from going. It’s not like we don’t have the money, and I’ve been saving so I wouldn’t even really need your—“

The front door slamming interrupts his plea.

A glowing Amber waltzes into the front room, swinging her bag beside her and walking up to kiss her Father on the cheek. “Hi Daddy.” As she takes in the scene in front of her she goes to turn away. “I told you this would happen…” she murmurs under her breath.

Her Father turns to Sander again with a tired sigh. “If you won’t listen to your Father, then why don’t you at least listen to your sister? She’s much more sensible.”

Sander shakes his head, smiling icily. “Yeah? That’s funny, why don’t you ask her who drove her home,” he throws back, raising his eyebrows at Amber, whose eyes widen and then narrow in disdain.

“Hey, don’t change the subject—wait, who drove you home?” he enquires, frowning at Amber expectantly.

Her words come out from under her lowered head, mumbling, “Just a boy from school. Britt needed to borrow my car, it’s not a big deal…but I think he might ask me—”

Sander lets out a short, pointed laugh. “Just a boy from school, huh? Senne is ‘just’ the biggest fuck boy in school, Dad, she really should be staying away from him.”

For once his language isn’t reprimanded. It’s now Amber’s turn to receive one of her Father’s lectures. They’re always the same: Rule Number One, no dating until you graduate, Rule Number Two, no dating until you graduate. She folds her arms in preparation for a scolding, but then decides that she won’t take it. Not this time.

“This is _so_ unfair! I’m almost 17, you can’t keep pretending you can control everything I do! I was in a guy’s car, I barely even touched him, and I’m gonna get in trouble for it? That’s insane!All of my friends are dating, but I’m being robbed of an essential part of the high school experience for basically no reason at all, other than that you’re illogically paranoid about me getting pregnant and ‘ruining my life forever’, which isn’t realistic _at all_ because one, I would use protection, and two, it’s not exactly nineteen-thirty-three and Planned Parenthood exists now. If there’s a double-standard for Sander then it’s sexist, and that’s it.”

She takes a big breath and works hard to suppress a grin, knowing her friend Zoë would be proud of her for standing up to her Father like this, already reminding herself to tell them at school tomorrow about how she singlehandedly took on the patriarchy. Meanwhile, her Father is frozen, stunned at this uncharacteristic outburst, taking a moment to absorb her impassioned words. Sander is looking down, struggling to hide how impressed he is with his usually obedient sister. He thinks maybe they are related after all, before catching sight of her brightly painted pink nails and compares them to his own, coloured a jet-black.

After a few moments of silence, their Dad looks between the two polar opposite siblings with an almost imperceptible sadness in his eyes as he now recalls them fighting even when they could barely speak, before finally addressing them.

“OK,” he declares, “Here’s what’s going to happen. New rule: Amber, you will be allowed to date”— she begins to squeal in excitement, jumping on the spot—“when he does.”

The air drains out of the room. Her ballooning boyfriend dreams not only burst, but plummet to the groundbefore they’d even had a chance to get out of the room. Speechless and heartbroken, she looks at Sander in shock as he bites his tongue with a smirk, stifling his entertained snorts while his leather jacket betrays him with a squeak at every soft chuckle.

“Look, you know my concern only comes from a—”

“A place of love?” Amber interrupts, her tone loaded with much more than teenaged angst. She is livid. “You’re basically saying I’ll never be allowed to date!” She glowers at her brother with fire in her eyes, as if trying to scorch through his leather armour. “Why can’t you be _normal_?” She spits the words out like venom. Then, grasping her bag, spins around and bounds up the stairs, her anger audible in each step.

Sander is quietly smug; he has never been considered ‘normal’, nor has he ever aspired to be. In fact, quite the contrary. His whole life he has actively avoided the conventional, and he is contented to know that others can recognise this. He wishes he could say the same about his sister, who has always cared too much about what other people think about her.

“As for you, don’t look so pleased with yourself,” His Father starts, "We haven’t finished discussing this college business yet— ” Sander stands up impatiently, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Do not walk away from me young man, I’m not done!”

“Well I am.”

Indeed, he was. He walks out of the room, snatching up his portfolio and leaping up the grand oak staircase. He pauses at the landing, where he can just see into Amber’s room. She looks up from were she is sitting on her bed and once she realises he’s there she shoots up and slams the door shut with a scowl. Head down, he marches to his own room where he shuts the door, pulls the blinds, and blasts music through his headphones, as loud as he can stand.

It’s not enough of a distraction. He’s frustrated, about more than one thing. Somewhere, in a place in his mind he labours to ignore, he knows there’s something that he could do that would make both Amber and himself happy. He just doesn’t know if he’s prepared to do it just yet. From where he’s lying on his bed, he spots a post-it note on his wall, which you can barely see underneath his various paraphernalia. Sighing, he heaves himself up and walks over to it, pulling it down to read.

_‘And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They’re quite aware of what they’re going through.’_

*

It’s the next day at school, and the library is mostly empty.

“Uh… _Qu’est-ce que vous_ —wait, no— _Est-ce que vous avez passé_ …um… _une_ … _une bonne semaine_?”

He rubs his forehead, discretely trying to wipe away the sweat with his shirt sleeve. He practised for hours last night, but he can’t seem to focus on anything when she’s _right in front of him_. The words stumble out of his mouth with such dreadful pronunciation that it could probably have been recorded and used to torture Napoleon.

Fortunately for him, Amber isn’t paying much attention. Unfortunately for him, he’s waited all day for this free period just to have her stare out the window with a face so furrowed, she’s probably burning calories through sheer willpower.

“Amber, uh, are you alright?”

She blinks at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Sorry, I’m just… I don’t think this is helping. And it’s not like I don’t have enough to worry about already…” She says the last part under her breath, but loud enough for Aaron to feel like he has to say something.

“You know, there is an alternative. French food. We could, maybe, eat some together, like—I don’t know—Saturday night?”

Amber looks up in confusion, blushing with embarrassment and trying to form a question over her giggles. “Are you…asking me out?” Aaron smiles shyly. “What’s your name again?”

He isn’t even slightly offended as he reminds her. “Look, I know your Dad doesn’t let you date but I was thinking—”

Her face changes into one of serious thought. “Actually, my Dad just came up with a new rule. I can date when my brother does.”

“Really? That’s fantastic! So I was thinking maybe we could—”

“Uh, _beaucoup problemo_ , in case you haven’t heard, my brother suffers from a particularly hideous case of a superiority complex, of the loner variation,” she interrupts bitterly.

Aaron’s face falls. “Oh. I heard he’s a bit anti-social, but I’m sure there are lots of girls that wouldn’t mind going out with him…like extreme dating, or something.”

“Well, do you think you could find someone like that?” Excitement dances around her face and Aaron mirrors her eager expression.

It’s not like Sander’s completely unattractive or anything—there must be _someone_ who’s willing to go out with him. “I mean, yeah, of course.”

She lets herself have hope for the first time, picturing her first real date with Senne. He wonders if maybe the Broerrrs were right and he’s in too deep…

*

Their plan is simple—find someone who will date Sander.

First on the list: the art studios.

Aaron follows Jens up the concrete staircases into the large art building, Robbe and Moyo trailing behind them.

“He never leaves this place, I swear. If there’s anyone who’ll be interested in Sander Driesen, it’s an art girl. Trust me, I’m a bit of a matchmaker.”

“Shut up,” Robbe pushes the back of his head, earning him a shove from Jens, but this isn’t enough to stop his smiling.

They reach a hall of classrooms and arbitrarily enter one of them, finding it to be mostly full. Jens leads them over by the windows where a group of girls are working, absorbed in their sketchbooks. They look up as the boys approach them.

“Hey, do you guys happen to know Sander? Driesen?” Blank stares. “Blond hair, fairly tall, usually hangs around here…”

“Uh, yeah. We know. He’s here like every-fucking-day taking up an entire classroom,” one of them eventually answers, pointing across the hallway.

“Well, would any of you be interested in…um….going on a date with him?” Jens is finding this more awkward than he thought he would and looks to the other Broerrrs for help. Aaron steps forward to speak.

“Just one date, it doesn’t even have to be—”

“It doesn’t matter,” one of the girls lifts her head from her work, “the answer is no.”

The girls start laughing amongst themselves and the boys look at each other, uncertain of what to say.

“OK… Thanks. I guess,” Jens mumbles, slowly turning out the door.

“What were you saying about being a matchmaker?” Moyo snickers as they reach the steps once more, but with less confidence this time.

“What are we gonna do now?” Aaron wines, his tone one of dejection.

The boys pause outside the building, looking to Jens for some direction. He puts his hands on his hips and sighs.

“Okay, I have an idea.”

Next up: the graffiti wall.

The wall on the far side of the school is widely known as being a breeding ground for edgy teens who dress in dark make-up and think they’re better than the rest of the school. So, naturally, the other half of the Venn diagram that Sander belongs to. Jens thinks the art girls might’ve been too soft, hoping the alt girls will be more receptive to their proposal.

They near a group of dark figures spray-painting the large brick side of the school building, and stand there waiting to be noticed. The sound of rattling paint cans drowns out their attempts at getting their attention. A few glance in their direction from under their hoods but promptly disregard them, until finally one throws down their can and cooly walks over to the four loitering boys.

“Yes?” She says expectantly, pulling down her mask to speak with them, revealing her dark purple lipstick. She’s fairly pale, as would be expected of the goth genre, with her pitch-black hair styled in a fitting short fringe and chin-length bob.

“Noor, right? We were wondering,” Moyo begins, slowly, “if you know Sander Driesen.”

She nods curtly, looking Robbe up-and-down with a bold and shameless eye, as if methodically assessing him, while he in turn awkwardly avoids eye contact.

“Well, do you… How would you feel about going on a date with him…?”

Her dark eyes narrow as she scoffs. “Excuse me?”

“Just like, as a favour. You see, our friend, here, Aaron—”

“I don’t care who your friend is—it’s not gonna happen. Girls aren’t just meat for boys, you know,” she sneers with a fierceness that intimidates Moyo. “Is that it?” She snaps, offended.

“OK, you’re right, but are you sure none of you are even remotely intrigued by Sander?” Noor stares at Jens as if he had just suggested they listen to Ed Sheeran.

“I don’t get it,” Jens vents at a loss. “It’s not like he’s ugly. Is he too tan or something? He’s practically one of you, I mean, doesn’t he do street art with you guys? And you’re telling me that no one likes him? Not even a little bit? Make it make sense,” he implores, at a loss.

Laughing lightly, Noor shakes her head. “One of us? Yeah, he sprays here sometimes but he never really stays to chat. Some of the girls liked his bad-boy vibe at first, but they’ve all tried and failed. He probably thinks they’re not good enough for him.”

“Well, have _you_ tried?” Jens asks, hopeful.

“Me? God, no. He’s not for me. Besides, I’m more into the soft guys…” she trails off, looking directly at Robbe, who’s now receding into his hoodie, increasingly uncomfortable as he hears the boys snickering.

Jens goes to turn with the other three, saying, “Well, thanks anyway,” but Noor calls them back after a second of hesitation.

“Wait! There is someone else you could talk to. I'm not sure but, I think I remember her mentioning Sander before… I don't know if she's still interested, though.” The boys wait anxiously in anticipation.

“It’s…Britt.”

All eyes dart towards Jens, who grimaces and whispers, “Fucking fantastic,” under his breath.

With a final look of gratitude to Noor, they walk out of the shadows and back onto the school courtyard. Aaron has to jog to keep up with them.

“Wait, guys. This is good, isn’t it? Who’s Britt?”

“Part of Blonde Ambition. And also Jens’ ex.”

“Oh,” Aaron contemplates this information. “Was it…bad?” Jens looks down and Aaron nods in understanding. “We can still talk to her though, right? I mean, if she already wants to date Sander then she won’t need that much persuading.”

“It’s complicated, but I guess we can try,” Jens agrees with a groan, already regretting what’s about to happen.

Robbe, who has been largely quiet since this plan was conceived, pulls off his beanie, looking slightly troubled as his hands fidget uneasily inside the pockets of his hoodie.

“Why are we doing this again?”

“To help Aaron,” Jens reminds him.

“Come on, Robbe, keep up,” Moyo teases, poking Robbe’s frowning face.

Robbe jerks away in annoyance. “I know but, is it worth it? She doesn’t even seem to like him that much—this could all be for nothing, we’re just wasting time.”

Aaron opens his mouth in defence, “You don’t know that! And she _does_ like me!”

“It’s still better than Amber going after Senne and inevitably getting her heart broken,” Jens reasons. “We’d be helping both of them either way.” Aaron points at Jens to emphasise his point.

“Why are you so concerned, anyways?” Moyo jests playfully, “Just because you’re jealous that Aaron’s going to get a girlfriend at this school before you do.”

Maybe he’s right. Robbe isn’t exactly sure what’s bothering him so much about this whole ordeal, so maybe Moyo has a point. He shouldn’t over-think it. After all, they’re not hurting anyone, right? Just helping out a friend, who at the very least has purer intentions than any other horny teenager at this god-forsaken school. Jens wasn’t lying about Senne being an elemental evil; in this fragile ecosystem, he is at the top of the food chain, and everyone else is prey, especially misguided girls. In some ways this could be seen as a public service, not just benefitting Aaron, but Amber and Britt, too. Hey, even Sander might be grateful for getting a girlfriend out of it. Robbe mulls this over in his head as they travel through the school, coming to the conclusion that he’s doing the right thing.

But then why does it feel so wrong?


	3. The Serious Moonlight

Another late night. Sander is sitting at his desk, drawing, the lamp casting a soft, warm light over his face. From the speaker in the corner, the gentle groove of his Bowie playlist fills the room, and he wishes there was someone to share it with.

In spite of the rumours, and what Amber would say, he isn’t vehemently opposed to a relationship—it’s true, he has turned down girls on a few occasions, but that’s because he never felt anything. Anything real. He doesn’t want to date just for the sake of it, unlike most people at school. As much as he comes across as a moody imitation of the archetypal rebellious teen, in reality he finds it hard to be artificial. Like a fake smile. And when he’s stifled by a fake plastic existence, he reaches for the few unspoiled truths in life. One of these is David Bowie. The other is, well…

He moves the paper at an angle and squints at it. He’s drawn this face so many times he thinks he would recognise it better than his own family, better than his own face. Often he’s wondered whether drawing like this could be considered a form of theft. That’s what it makes him feel like. A thief. Like he’s taken something that isn’t his. Keeping it, but also hiding it, protecting it. Like a flower flattened between thick books, saved for a future date to be framed on the wall.

He’s not naïve enough to call it love. Most of the time. But other times, when there’s no one awake except him and the flickering street lamps, he feels like he could shout it from his window onto the empty street below.

It started with fleeting glances and parting touches. Lingering eyes, hands brushing as they leave the classroom, visits to the skate park under the secrecy of his hood. Never a real conversation, though. Never alone with each other. Not because he’s nervous, or shy. It’s just circumstance. Always with that group, following Jens around as if it’s his job. Even so, he can’t help but _want_ him.

He watches him, every time, hoping for a sign. A look that says, _‘I see you, too,’_ or even just a greeting. But he doesn’t blame Robbe for being distant. Even if he showed up right here, tonight, and declared his undying love for him, he’s not sure his traditionalist of a Father would approve. Not that he cares, honestly. But if he wants to go to his dream school, it’s probably best to only ask for one thing at a time. And he’s alright with waiting. He imagines the feeling of opening heavy books and marvelling, for the first time, at the preserved beauty of a pressed flower. He holds onto this feeling like Hope itself.

Just then, a knock on the door. Amber’s head appears around the doorframe as Sander hurries to cover the portrait with his elbow. She takes a few steps into the room, making a disapproving face when she hears the music.

“What is it?” His voice comes out more disgruntled than intended.

“Can you give me a ride to school tomorrow? Britt still has my car…” She asks with an apologetic smile. Sander nods tacitly, the sight of his sister so meek making him feel slightly guilty.

“You know, you’re capable of being nice, under all this hostility…” She gestures at his intimidating look. “That would surprise people.”

“You’re forgetting that I don’t care what people think.”

“Of course you do,” Amber laughs at him naively.

“No,” Sander counters, more seriously, “I don’t.” She looks down silently. “You know, you don’t have to be what they want you to be.”

Amber pauses in the doorway, staring at the ground before facing him. “Have you ever thought that maybe this is what I want to be?”

To be honest, no. Perhaps an unhealthy dose of main-character syndrome had left him viewing everyone else’s lives against his own. But he isn’t ready to handle that much self-awareness just yet. Troubled, he places the sketch into his portfolio to finish at school tomorrow; his own personal flower-press.

*

The cooler weather is now settling in, as the bright autumn sun fails to warm the crisp air of the school courtyard. Aaron, Robbe, and Moyo are at their resident bench, waiting for Jens to return. The now-familiar sound of boots on concrete causes them to immediately turn to lock eyes with their target, trying not to be too suspicious. Robbe looks away quickly. Was that a wink?

They’re still distracted when Jens saunters over, skateboard in hand.

“Well?” Aaron jolts to his feet, wide-eyed and desperately trying to read Jens’ expression. “What did she say?”

“First of all, it was fucking awkward, man. I can’t believe I did that,” he sighs, mostly to himself.

“I said that you shouldn’t be the one to ask, but you insisted,” Moyo retorts while Aaron is practically jumping up and down from the suspense. Robbe is pretending not to be interested, but he’s curious despite himself.

“She thought I was joking at first. Then I explained the situation, and she said she wouldn’t mind. But, she has some…conditions,” he stresses the final word looking at Robbe, who is now paying full attention.

“Which are…?” Robbe waits for an answer, confused as to how he could possibly be involved in this.

“But she’ll date Sander? Aaron inquires worryingly.

“It took a bit more persuading than I thought, but yes,” he finally reveals, Aaron fist-pumping the air in celebration. “As long as Robbe agrees to go on a date with Noor.”

Robbe blinks slowly, not quite registering what he’s saying until Jens breaks out into a boisterous smile and Moyo starts to pester him provocatively.

“Look who’s finally gonna get some…” taunts Moyo with a cheeky grin. Robbe isn’t smiling.

“Guys, I’m not… You can’t… I…” Robbe wants to reject this new clause in the plan, even though the look in Aaron’s eyes begs him to agree to it. He shakes his head rapidly.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re essentially prostituting me so that Britt can date Sander so that Aaron can date Amber? Do you realise how fucked up that sounds?”

“We’re basically doing the same thing to Britt…” Jens points out.

“And maybe it’s time you get laid,” snorts Moyo.

Robbe rolls his eyes. He’s not interested in Noor, he knows that. But she seems cool, and he actually wouldn’t mind hanging out with her. It’s not like he has to _do_ anything. And, yeah, he’ll admit he’s curious about what happens between Britt and Sander, and this might get him closer to the story. After a long, resigned sigh, he reluctantly agrees.

“Yes!” Aaron rushes over to him, enveloping him in a hug. “I owe you, man,” he speaks into his ear.

“Alright, alright,” Robbe shoves Aaron off of him. “So what’s the plan now?”

“Britt said she’ll approach Sander in the art room at lunch to initiate contact,” Jens informs them, as if describing an elaborate heist about to take place instead of literally outlining the plot of a high school drama. “I guess we’ll wait and see how that goes…?”

Robbe looks down in thought. He can’t shake an uneasy feeling—he’s still apprehensive about this whole setup. He wonders what will happen if Sander ever learns about their cruel ‘plan’. Why does he feel so protective of Sander? He’s never even had a full conversation with him. He doesn’t think he could. Sander’s kind of like a myth at this school; no one really knows him. Everybody knows a rumour about him. That he’s actually 23. That he once went to juvie. That he spent time on a psych ward. Robbe has never really given them much thought, but as they come to mind he seriously considers the likelihood each one.

Why hasn’t anyone been able to decode the enigma of Sander Driesen? How can someone be that elusive? Robbe asks himself this before soon wondering whether one could ask the same questions about himself.

*

By the time the last bell rings, Sander is already in the Art block, hunched over a tall table, his things spilling out from the open bag beside him. He pushes up the sleeves of his beige jumper and rustles through his portfolio for last night’s drawing. Just as he’s about to pull it out, someone walks in. To _his_ classroom.

Annoyed, he turns around, ready to yell at whoever’s there. He’s somewhat taken aback when he sees Britt walking over to the desk.

“Are you looking for Amber? You need to give her the car back, I had to drive her in today,” he says, unamused.

He can tell she’s surprised by his cold tone. “I know, I’ve just talked to Amber. I saw you in here on your own,and—”

“That was kind of the idea…” This is the one place in the whole school where he’s guaranteed solitude, so he won’t be polite about it. Clearly, he is unaware of how he is resented by the rest of the Art department for precisely this reason.

She’s again slightly disconcerted by his attitude, but not put off completely. She marches on. “So… What are you working on?”

Not properly looking at her, he lets out a dramatic sigh before starting to pack away his things. “Nothing. I just remembered that I’m hungry.” He loudly zips up his bag. “Bye.”

He speeds past her, out the door before she can get a word out. She scoffs, almost impressed by his loyalty to the abrasive bad boy demeanour he’s known for. She’s not disheartened, though. It will take more than a bad attitude to get rid of her, and now she’s even more determined. After all, she has everything to gain and nothing to lose.

The Broerrrs are waiting at their usual spot when Britt strolls over to them. Aaron practically sprints over asking how it went.

“Not good, really. He really lives up to his reputation. This might be harder than we thought.”

She’s met with groans and wining from the boys. Aaron moans in despair. “What do we do now?”

Robbe wonders to himself about what being close with Sander would be like. It’s almost impossible to imagine him being friendly, let alone vulnerable. This mystery has him mildly entertained by the idea of finding out. Just out of pure curiosity, of course.

The group looks impatiently to Jens for instructions, seeing as he has been the chief co-ordinator thus far.

“Reconnaissance.”

*

“Wow. There’s a lot of stuff in here,” Aaron muses. Quite the understatement.

Amber leads Aaron, accompanied by Robbe, into Sander’s bedroom. Britt wasn’t interested in seeing this exclusive showcase, so Aaron and Robbe were assigned with trying to piece together their mysterious character by grossly invading his personal space and then report the findings to HQ. This operation needed to be incognito and strictly confidential.

Robbe walks in nervously. “Are you sure he won’t be home soon?” He hovers about the room, acting as if someone will jump out at any moment.

“He came home earlier to drop off his stuff. He said he had plans tonight and then left. Who knows what he’s doing…” she remarks with disapproval. “I don’t think Dad even knows. I’d be grounded for life if I did something like that.” Aaron can see how upset she is and gives her a sympathetic look.

Robbe attempts to take in his surroundings, but he finds it hard it to be clinical in noting the details, as he becomes increasingly absorbed in the space. At first all he can see are the countless posters plastering the walls. He walks over to the shelves, full of records. None of them from this century. Joy Division, Talking Heads, Pink Floyd. He strains to memorise the names so he can listen to them later. Strictly as part of the mission, you know, in the interest of its success. Aaron’s the one taking notes, anyways.

When he looks at the wall more closely, he realises the space between posters is covered by scraps of paper: post-it notes, photographs, and drawings, plenty of drawings. Pencil sketches, ink, charcoal. Some of the photos are film negatives, or have been treated chemically. Robbe doesn’t know anyone his age who owns a film camera—all he does is play video games all day and go to the skate park with Jens. He picks out a few of the post-its to read and finds illegible quotes scribbled on them. Song lyrics, probably.

Aaron is transfixed on a particularly suggestive photo of David Bowie with psychedelic makeup and a campy pose. His mouth opens, perplexed. “Are you sure he’s not—”

“A friend of Dorothy? No,” Amber answers confidently. “I found a picture of Winona Ryder in his notebook once so I’m pretty sure he’s not harbouring same-sex tendencies.”

Aaron doesn’t question it and continues to snoop, picking up a book from the bedside table. “Sylvia Plath? Is your brother OK?”

“Do you have to ask?” Amber replies, opening a drawer and rummaging through it. Suddenly, she shrieks as a box flies to the ground.

“At least we know he hasn’t taken a vow of celibacy…” Aaron comments, peering over at the condoms.

Robbe walks over to the desk and starts shifting through the layers of assorted paper and trinkets littering Sander’s desk. He haphazardly moves the clutter around until he spots an unlabelled envelope and hesitates before opening it.

He shouldn’t. Robbe would hate it if someone did this to him. Yet he can’t resist. He gives in to the temptation and pulls the contents out quickly, before he has time to re-think.

It’s developed film. Throwing down the envelope he flicks through the stack of photographs. They’re all in black and white, making most of the images look like scenes straight out of a film noir. A few of them are of the school, but most are of street art around the city, giving them a grunge vibe. One of them he recognises as the skate park, capturing some graffiti on the ramps.

He looks closer, and if he squints he can just make out a figure in the background. With a start, he recognises his clothes and realises that it’s his back facing the camera. He frowns, trying to remember when that could’ve been taken. He shrugs it off as an eerie coincidence and puts the rest of the photos back into the envelope. Now he feels even more guilty, hiding the evidence like a culprit.

His train of thought is disrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket.

“Who’s that?”

“Noor,” Robbe sighs woefully. Jens or someone must have given her his number. All it says is a location and a time. Tonight.

Aaron breaks into a knowing smile. “Is it about your… _date_?” He wiggles his eyebrows childishly and hums a silly tune.

“Are you guys finished here? I have homework to do,” Amber taps her foot grumpily.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about Sander?"

“You’re asking me to investigate the inner workings of my brother’s twisted mind?” She asks, disgusted.

“Well, nothing else has worked. We kind of need to go behind enemy lines here,” Aaron argues, trying not to sound too harsh.

Amber unfolds her arms. “Fine,” she takes a deep breath, “I’ll try and do some more research and text you if I find anything. Is that enough?”

Aaron nods quietly. “So…” He puts his hands on his hips, looking around aimlessly. “Can I see your room?” She turns red, caught off-guard.

“No. A girl’s room is very personal,” she explains matter-of-factly, and gestures them out of the room.

Seeing them engaged in a conversation, Robbe hangs back and secretly nicks the photo of he’s convinced is him at the park, stuffing it into his pocket. Surely he won’t notice just one photo missing, right?

*

It turns out HQ is the skatepark, and since Jens convinced Britt to meet the Broerrs there, they begin by discussing their newly unlocked insights into a very complicated boy.

“So, what have you got for me?”

“Well,” Aaron starts, since Robbe is seated farther away from them, “Here’s his class schedule, for starters.” He pulls a folded piece of scrap paper out of his pocket and reads, “Likes: photography, art, obviously, and sad boy music of the seventies art rock persuasion.” He hands the paper over for Britt look over. “Here’s a list of records he has in his room.”

“So I’m meant to buy a camera, buy some Doc Martens and listen to this emo shit? Why can’t he just like Dua Lipa or something,” she exclaims, flustered.

“Amber said he calls music on the radio today ‘chewing gum for the ears’. Oh, Amber also gave me some old movies tickets. We’ve got… Let’s see… Moonlight? Uh, Heathers, and Romeo + Juliet. Does that help?”

“Who is this guy?” Moyo asks rhetorically.

Britt moues in annoyance. “What the hell? I haven’t seen any of those.” Robbe looks down with a satisfied smile—Romeo + Juliet is his favourite movie.

Contented, Robbe gets up to skate, fed up with having to listen to Britt complain. Aaron doesn’t know what to say. “Amber said she’d text me if she thinks of anything else…”

“Why couldn’t she just text me directly?” Britt questions, her arms folded in frustration.

“Uh…” Aaron looks for an answer in defeat. “I guess she probably will, now that I think about it, yeah.”

Jens speaks up to try and close the meeting. “OK, we’ll reconvene tomorrow. Let’s just sleep on this new information for now.” Everyone nods in agreement, standing up from the ramp and picking up their things. Aaron takes his phone out of his pocket and frowns before waving his hands at the group.

“Amber just sent me a text!”

*

Outside the school. 12:00.

He checks the message for the hundredth time as he waits where he was told. A thousand kidnapping scenarios run through his head, and he is half-tempted to text Jens to come pick him up when the throttle of an oncoming motorcycle renders him immobile. As the bike comes to a halt in front of him, he steps back timidly.

The figure takes off their helmet and he sees that it’s Noor. “Here,” she hands him a spare helmet, but he’s stuck in his place. “Come on, let’s go.” She ushers him as he climbs on the back of the bike, unsure of where to put his hands at first but soon wrapping his rigid hands around her without thinking as they speed into the night.

After the initial shock he starts to feel the thrill of the ride—wind pushing through him, the city lights rushing by like strobes, the intense awareness that he’s never done this before. He finds himself dismayed when they finally start to slow down, already wanting to go again. But he soon recovers, and his fear and confusion return with full force.

“Where the fuck are we, Noor?”

She gives him a mischievous smile and hushes him. “Calm down.” She then hands him a mask, like the one he saw her wearing the other day behind the wall. He grabs it, watching her as she helps him put it on. From this close up he can see she has septum piercing he hadn’t noticed before.

Grabbing his hand, she leads him over to an industrial-looking garage, and knocks twice. It soon opens and reveals a bustling scene of moving figures huddled around large containers. As his eyes adjust to the dreamy lighting, he discovers groups of graffiti artists gathering in front him. His mouth opens with an equal mixture of amusement and amazement; he had no idea places like this existed, or people like this.

“Noor…”

Robbe feels out of place, to put it lightly. Fish out of water doesn’t even cover it—he’s a bug _in_ water, out of his depth and flailing about helplessly.

Noor steps in, shoving a can of paint in his hand and dragging him over to the side of an abandoned truck. As she pulls him in front of her, he catches sight of a flash going off. Blinking from the bright light, he looks behind him. Squinting into the darkness, he sees someone lowering their camera, but he can’t tell who it is underneath the hood and the mask. He turns back to face Noor, but she’s already started spraying. By the time he looks again for mysterious photographer, they’re gone.

Still slightly perturbed, he tries to copy Noor, but can’t quite master the technique with his unskilled hands. Eventually, he gives up and wanders away in an attempt to find someplace less crowded. He didn’t want to disturb Noor so he left without a saying anything. And he also didn’t want her following him. As much as he thinks she’s cool, she can be a bit too much for him—their first date so far has played out almost like a hostage scenario.

He leans against a nearby wall, partially covered by the shadows. He’s shocked when he sees someone standing beside him.

“Jesus, fuck,” he yelps instinctively. The figure steps forward into the light, and a familiar pair of shoes and leather jacket come into view. Robbe identifies them, knowing immediately who it is. “Sander?”

He takes off the mask and hood to reveal a smirk, his silver hair reflecting under the moonlight. Robbe spies a camera hanging around his neck and realises he must be the one who took the photo earlier.

“Robbe.”

He doesn’t know what to say, freezing on the spot. It’s odd knowing so much about someone you’ve barely spoken to. He didn’t even think Sander knew his name. Sander doesn’t break eye contact even though Robbe doesn’t hold his stare for more than a second, unable to look him directly in the eye. Not in a rude way—he’s nervous, but he doesn’t want Sander to stop looking at him.

“I haven’t seen you here before…” he remarks with a flirtatious smile that Robbe doesn’t quite know how to interpret, but has him blushing nonetheless.

“Uh, yeah, no, Noor actually brought me, here, uh,” he stutters, over-heating under his intense gaze.

“Well, where is she?” He responds, looking around sarcastically at their abandoned corner. Robbe lets out a small laugh, trying hard not to embarrass himself.

“I guess I…felt a little overwhelmed.” ( _You can be overwhelmed and underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed_?) Robbe can’t stop his distracting internal monologue from racing away from him.

Sander nods in understanding, biting his lip in thought. Robbe’s can’t seem to draw his eyes away from his mouth. He manages to tear them away before he gets caught. He frowns at the ground.

Sander notices his change in expression and nudges him with his shoulder. Robbe looks over and observes as he pulls out headphones from his pocket. He plugs them into his phone and hands one of the earpieces to Robbe. He holds it in his hand, unsure of what he wants him to do. Sander snorts and takes it from him, gently moving Robbe’s curls behind his ear before placing it in.

For a second Robbe thinks he can’t breathe. There is a silence between them. It’s tense, but not awkward; it’s electric, he's white hot and burning cold at the same time. The sound of the acoustic guitar begins to assuage his pounding heart, which slows to the beat of the song.

“You a Bowie fan?” Sander breaks the silence, eyeing him expectantly with an open smile.

Robbe deliberates over whether he should tell the truth or not. “Uh…yeah…”

Sander clearly hasn’t bought his pathetic answer, chuckling to himself. “Yeah? Name three songs.”

Robbe can’t. But Robbe desperately wants to impress this handsome boy standing right next to him. “Uh… Space Cowboy?”

Sander erupts in laughter, leaning down towards his shoulder. Robbe’s face drops, thinking he’s laughing at him, but then quickly understands that it’s not a cruel laugh. Not even remotely. He can’t help but smile along with Sander’s joy, feeling a sense of pride that he's the one responsible. He thinks about how this is probably the first time he’s seen him this happy, yet it doesn’t feel unnatural in the slightest.

Soon the laughter subsides, and Sander raises his head, slowly. As he lifts his chin, Robbe gulps at their proximity, inhaling shakily when Sander’s nose just barely brushes against his cheek. They're breathing in the same breath, and Robbe can’t think about anything else. The music starts to build to a crescendo and Robbe feels something magnetic pulling their lips closer to each other, closer, closer—

“There you are!”

The two boys pull apart instantly as Noor makes her way over to them, and Robbe reluctantly hands over the headphones. He's already forgotten what the song sounded like.

“That is you, isn’t it? It’s dark back here.” She shines a flashlight over them, causing Robbe to cover his eyes and Sander to yank his hood back up. “Look who I found!”

Robbe’s eyes gradually recover from the brightness and he registers who Noor brought with her. Britt ambles over to where Sander is standing, not even acknowledging Robbe.

He sighs internally, itching to be alone again, and beside him he feels Sander shifting his weight restlessly, too. He doesn’t know what was about to happen a second ago, but what he does know is that he didn’t want it to stop.

Noor looks around at them excitedly after a loaded silence. “Now it’s like a fun double date!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve never written anything before n it shows xo (thank u for reading my bullshittery??? we rlly r all on the same shit aren’t we) let me know what u think !!!! or don’t !!!!!!


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